Silhouette
by WickedSomething
Summary: Bellatrix has a secret admirer. (Eventually BBRL)


Silhouette

Bellatrix Black was in the Great Hall quite early in the morning. As always. She didn't have friends. No. She had admirers, plenty. She never wanted friends; they diminished any chances of one gaining power. Because friends lead to sympathy, sympathy leads to weakness. Bellatrix could acquire the attention of whomever she wanted. It was only the Slytherin boys who had the Gryffindor's so-called courage to talk to her. While many tried, they failed miserably. Her lack of any form of social life was made up for her interest in books. She was Head Girl, now that she was in her Seventh Year.

It all started in her Sixth Year of Hogwarts on a morning just like this. Bellatrix had just come down from the Owlery; she had been sending her parents a list of books she would like to be sent via owl-mail. On her way out of the tower, her eyes followed what appeared to be the tall silhouette of a boy going where she had just left. She didn't get a good glimpse of him because he disappeared as quickly as she noticed him.

Running a hand through the shiny sheet of black that was her hair, Bellatrix situated herself at the Slytherin Table and no sooner had she picked up an apple when a stunning, black owl swooped down in front of her. Now she was confused. The Blacks owned a variety of owls but this one was unfamiliar. Noticing it had an envelope tied to its leg, the girl hesitated to remove it. It was a good moment before she actually did so.

The envelope was addressed to her… awkwardly: To The Beautiful Ms. Black. Arching a finely shaped eyebrow, she gently peeled it open. The oldest Black removed a sheet of stationary parchment littered with somewhat tidy scrawl in black ink and read:

Dear Ms. Black,

While it will be a while before you can possibly comprehend what I am intending to do, I will use this story as my alibi: I was in **_Paris_** this summer with my family and while we were in the **_French_** equivalent of Diagon Alley, I came across a wonderful owl emporium and this owl was the first to catch my eye. I named her Bellatrix in your honor, my lovely. I trained her to also go by Belle and Trixie, in case calling her your own name is too **_strange_** for you. I've decided not to disclose who I am for now.

Loving only you,

Your Secret Admirer

P. S. I've left a considerable number of clues for you, and seeing as how you're a shoe in for Head Girl next year, I think you can figure it out.

Bellatrix was taken aback; no one had ever given her anything throughout her time at Hogwarts. Then it hit her, this person had to be the boy she'd seen earlier. Right? She surveyed the letter looking for the aforementioned clues. The boy was probably Parisian. Assuming he was a Slytherin, he could've been a number of people. There were plenty of French in Slytherin. Her thoughts drifted to Rodolphus Lestrange, he was tall and French. 'No, it can't be him.' Bellatrix thought, 'I bet he's one of the few who don't even know I exist.' His brother Rabastan, the Seventh Year, maybe. He had asked Bellatrix out on a date the previous year, which she mercilessly declined in front of all of Slytherin.

She was reading a book on curses in the Common Room, oblivious to her surroundings when a strong finger attempted to gently poke her in the back. Her icy black eyes narrowed considerably as she surveyed the one who dared break her train of thought. Rabastan Lestrange seemed to cower under her glare.

"Bellatrix," His somewhat-apparent accent thicker than his younger brother's whom Bellatrix had only heard speak when questioned in class, "I was wondering if you'd like to accompany me to the Yule Ball."

Bellatrix, still temperamental from having her attention diverted from her book, smirked menacingly. "I don't _do _balls, Lestrange. And if I did," She started threateningly, "I would more gladly accept to an Imp's invitation than a dimwitted oaf such as yourself. Thank you." Bellatrix could feel his anger mounting but she swiftly stood up, all eyes on her, and made a show of going to her dormitory.

She hoped it wasn't Rabastan who had sent her this owl, his brother, well, Bellatrix hardly knew him. Deciding it would only be polite to reply, Bellatrix figured she'd rather attack the anonymous owler. Grabbing a napkin, she used her wand to emblaze a few words in: Who the hell are you? Using the same ribbon attached to Trixie's leg, Bellatrix shoed the owl away with her response.

_**Read & Review: If you're going to flame at least flame constructively.**_


End file.
